


Some People

by damnremus (malivolus)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:44:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malivolus/pseuds/damnremus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he’d asked the man to walk him to the corner where he could catch the Knight Bus back home, he hadn’t noticed much about him beyond a few shaving nicks and the sort of sweater Mr. Potter liked to wear during the holidays. This had apparently been enough to convince Sirius that this man was a Responsible Adult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some People

“I’m not normally like this. I promise.”

“Really, it’s no big thing.”

“No, it is. I’m sorry.”

Sirius hiccupped before another apology could fall from his mouth and dug his fingers even more firmly into his companion’s arm. The water in the dock winked at him a thousand times over and for a long moment, Sirius was stuck on the way the moonlight seemed unable to puncture it and nearly tripped over his feet, forcing his very, very, very kind benefactor to hitch his arm more snugly around his ribs.

“It’s just, my best mate’s having a kid and I’m fucking happy for him and the lady, I am, I just can’t help thinking they’re too young, you know? Way too fucking young and our next mission’s set to go out in a month and what is he going to do about seeing them and being home in time and making sure Lily’s taking her prenatal vitamins and getting to the doctor alright and isn’t decorating the poor kid’s room in a safari theme, you know? Not that I have any fucking clue what I’m doing, but it just seems too sudden and not at all planned, which isn’t like Lily, you know? She’s a thinker. She thinks a lot. Far too bloody often for me to keep on with her train of thought because it always ends up winding around itself and I simply don’t have the attention span for it, you know? Well, anyway, they’re having this kid and I just don’t see how it’s a good idea, not that they can really go back now, but you know how these things are, don’t you? But I am not normally like this. I can normally hold my liquor quite well, it’s just that I think they put different sorts of alcohol in magical and muggle liquor and the muggle stuff just right fucks me up and I’m all out of sorts but I am normally _not like this_.”

The man seemed to smile at him in the low moonlight. “I’m sure,” he said and before Sirius could really begin to contemplate whether or not this was a form of sarcasm that he had been tasked with deciphering, he found his ass squarely meeting the pavement.

“You should really be more careful about mentioning magic and muggles,” the man said as he situated Sirius on the cement ground beside what Sirius now recognized as an underground entrance. “You never know who you’re talking to these days.”

“Oh,” said Sirius. “Are you a muggle?”

The man laughed, tilting his chin up to the sky and with a booming resonance that Sirius could hear echoing across the plane of flat water beyond them. His chest expanded rapidly as he knelt on the ground before Sirius and Sirius thought he could watch the way his sweater pulled against the cold for the rest of his life if the man felt so inclined.

“No. I’m not.” The man collapsed into the space beside Sirius. “Which is, really, a blessing for you.” He pulled out a lighter and a cigarette, placed the cigarette nimbly between his teeth, and lit it with a sort of shaky grip which left Sirius wanting to pull the man’s fingers into his own and blow hot air on them until they felt warm and flushed under his touch.

“You want a drag?” the man asked, offering the cigarette to Sirius. It was at this moment that Sirius took his first, real, long look at his companion, which probably said quite a bit about his inebriated state. When he’d asked the man to walk him to the corner where he could catch the Knight Bus back home, he hadn’t noticed much about him beyond a few shaving nicks and the sort of sweater Mr. Potter liked to wear during the holidays. This had apparently been enough to convince Sirius that this man was a Responsible Adult. Now, here in the moonlight and the cold, December breeze, Sirius took stock of a much younger man than he had originally thought. 

Light, messy curls fell about his face in waves, long enough that they brushed his jawline and the collar of his sweater. Pushed behind his ear and slipping through every shade of copper, amber, warm, coffee brown under the night sky, Sirius had the sudden and overwhelming urge to tug on the ends, curling around themselves in the arid winter air, like he used to with all the girls back in primary school. But this was not a playground and he was not a child and therefore, Sirius restrained himself – a victory by all accounts in his state. On closer inspection, the shaving nicks he’d found earlier were rather much older than he’d thought, much larger, and much more intriguing. There was one, a scar really, that stretched from the far side of the man’s eye all the way down to just above his lip. And his lips curved like a sweet bow, feminine set in a masculine frame, and the edges turned down like raindrops slipping off a forest branch and sharp lines littered his features but sent forth a sweeter disposition than Sirius had ever the pleasure of meeting and, wow, he was incredibly, incredibly, incredibly drunk sitting next to an incredibly, incredibly, incredibly attractive man.

“Well?” the man said. “Do you want one or not?”

“What’s your name?” Sirius asked, ignoring the cigarette still extended towards him. The man pulled back, put the cigarette to his lips, and breathed deeply.

“Remus,” he said as smoke whispered from the corners of his mouth. 

“Sirius,” Sirius said, holding out his hand for a shake.

The man – Remus – laughed, taking it and giving it a quick pump in the moonlight. “I know, mate. You’ve told me half a dozen times now.”

“Suppose I have.”

Remus took another pull and watched the smoke rise from him with a detached sort of interest.

“Your friend isn’t in the wrong, you know.”

Sirius snapped his gaze to his companion so fast he felt the strain acutely in his neck. “How do you figure? Bringing something into this war. I can’t reckon it. Most days James can’t put his shoes on the right feet the first try and now he’s going to have a tiny person to put shoes on and a battle to fight and bread to pick up for Lily because he always forgets the damn bread even though she writes it in big, block letters on the back of his hand every time he leaves the house and –”

“You worry a lot for someone who’s just had their weight in alcohol to drink.”

“I’ve got a lot to worry about.”

Remus scuffed the tip of his shoe against the pavement. “Suppose that’s true.”

The silence stretched between them and Sirius knew it was awkward despite the numbness persisting in his fingers and toes.

“I still don’t think your mate’s wrong for having a kid,” Remus said. He lifted the cigarette to his lips once more and pulled the smoke into his lungs and this time Sirius attempted to commit the intimate relish with which he did it to memory. “People feel war in different manners. Some people put everything on hold. Throw their whole selves in this … this _thing_ they’ve found themselves all tangled up in. Others want life, need life, to continue on as it always had. Need to forget the bread at the store and kiss their girl goodbye in the morning and have children and buy diapers in the market at two o’clock in the morning with a bag of chips from the shop on the corner in one hand and a wedding band pressing incessantly against their ring finger. Some people need that.”

Remus looked at him.

“Have you got somebody at home, Sirius?”

“No,” said Sirius.

Remus put his cigarette out on the cement.

“Would you like to come home with me, Sirius?”

“Why?” asked Sirius.

Remus smiled and there was something in that smile and sobered Sirius instantly. It forced the scar just above Remus’s lip to stretch and inside it hurt of nostalgia and anger and sadness and youth and none of the above and all of the above. It smelled of roses and blood and sex in the morning before brushed teeth and showers and tea. It sounded of slow, sad songs on the radio and rain at night. It looked like it could be home.

“Because I need that.”


End file.
